


o'clock

by insouciant



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insouciant/pseuds/insouciant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the best thing is to forget about time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	o'clock

He waves his hand once more and he lifts his index finger.

One more drink is served and he smiles and says _thanks_.

This continues until the bartender politely says _no more_.

He nods in return in understanding.

He walks out the bar, his feet heavy, and slightly stumbling here and there.

He checks the time on his watch.

He looks up and observes the star scattered sky.

The air is cool but his intoxicated body keeps him warm.

He trudges along the sidewalk.

He stumbles and sways, but he’s fortunate that there aren’t many people in the street.

There aren’t many people at all.

There aren’t many people at all in his life.

He sighs. He feels extra weary of his life filled with superficial relationships.

He feels extra weary of his life filled with regrets of letting go of the genuine ones.

He fumbles through his blazer pocket.

He checks the time on his phone.

He slides the phone. He unlocks it.

He taps on the contact list.

The list is too long and it makes him feel dizzy.

There are too many numbers with too little people to call.

He rubs his eyes. He rubs his eyes until his hands are wiping tears.

The person he wants to call is not on the contact list.

He checks the time on his watch.

He feels weary.

He finds a bench. He walks over and sits on it.

His intoxicated, warm body is embraced with chilly winds.

He checks the time again.

He looks at the sky where the moon is covered with wisps of clouds.

The person he wants to call is not on the contact list.

Still, he knows his number.

His weak fingers tap the numbers like second nature.

There is a momentary pause.

No matter how intoxicated he may be, the logical side of him tells him not to do it.

His index finger _accidentally_ slips and taps on the call button.

The dial tone continues and his logical side says that it’s still not too late to stop.

His fingers decide that they’re too tired to move anymore.

_ -Hello? _

-Hello.

__

_ -What are you doing up so late? Do you know- _

-I know what time it is.

_ -You do? _

-I checked the time at least six times.

_ -You did? _

-I keep checking the time.

_ -Why? _

-It keeps going.

_ -Yeah, it does. _

-I wish it’d stop.

_ -Sometimes, I wish that, too. _

-I feel like I’m running out of time.

_ -Don’t worry. You’re going along with time. _

-I don’t feel like it.

_ -Don’t worry. _

-Do you ever think about me?

_ -Of course. _

-I think about you, too.

_ -That’s nice to hear. _

-You’re not on my contact list anymore.

_ -You’re not on mine, either. _

-Did you know I was calling?

_ -Yeah. _

He kicks the concrete floor with the tip of his fancy shoe.

He dropped the blazer on the floor, but he doesn’t care to pick it up.

His tie is loose around his neck.

The sleeves of his white shirt are folded up and scrunched around his elbows.

He checks the time on his watch.

He looks at the sky. The wind has moved the clouds away from the moon.

He rubs his eyes.

He sighs. He keeps the silence.

-I should get a taxi.

_ -Do you know where you are? _

-I think so.

_ -Where are you? _

-I walked around for a while.

_ -You did? _

-Yeah.

He wants to take his shoes off, but he doesn’t want to lose them.

He wants to go home soon, but he’s too tired.

He doesn’t want to move a step forward.

He thinks he likes the bench.

_ -Where are you? _

-I was at a bar.

_ -Did you get your favorite? _

-I got multiple of my favorites.

_ -Don’t take your shoe off yet. _

A sob escapes through his lips.

A blur covers his eyes.

A tremble begins on his shoulders.

A façade falls to the cracks of the concrete floor he’s been kicking at.

_ -Did you get a taxi? _

(He looks around and shakes his head.)

_ -Did you take your shoe off? _

(He looks down and notices his feet kicking at the ground with no shoe. He nods.)

_ -Keep your jacket on. I bet it’s cold outside. _

(He stares at his blazer on the ground.)

_ -It is cold outside. _

-Is it cold outside?

_ -You should keep your jacket on unless you already threw it on the ground. _

-Why?

_ -Because you’re going to catch a cold and your cold lasts at least two weeks. _

-Why?

_ -Because you’re the worst at taking care of yourself. _

-Why?

_ -Because you always had me to take care of you. _

-Why?

_ -Because you were so sure that I’ll always take care of you. _

-Why?

_ -Because you trusted me. _

-Why?

_ -Because you loved me. _

-Why?

_ -Because I’m drop dead gorgeous. _

-Why?

The phone is taken away from his hand.

The blazer is picked up from the ground.

His shoulders are covered with a bigger and warmer jacket.

His shoe is back on his feet.

He stares at the man, still slightly out of breath.

He stares at the man who took his jacket off to put over his shoulders.

He stares at the man who put his shoe back on for him.

He stares at the man.

-Drop dead gorgeous.

_ -Why? _

-Because I love you.

_ -Why? _

-Because I love you.

_ -Why? _

-I love you. I love you. I love you.

He stares at the man wrapping his arms around him.

He stares at the man helping him up from the bench.

He stares at the man guiding him forward as he stumbles and sways.

He stares at the man until he tells him to look forward instead of him.

-I love you.

_ -I know. _

-Why?

_ -Sometimes I ask that myself. _

-Why?

_ -Sometimes shit just happens. _

-But I love you.

_ -I know. _

-Do you?

_ -Yeah. _

-No.

_ -Yes. _

-No, I mean-

_ -Yes, I know you love me and I love you, too. _

He stares at the man guiding him.

He stares at the man opening the door to his apartment.

He stares at the man taking his shoes off for him.

He stares at the man changing his clothes for him.

He notices that he’s still kept his spare clothes.

He notices that his apartment has remained the same.

He notices that.

He notices the permanence.

A sob escapes through his lips.

A blur covers his eyes.

A tremble begins on his shoulders.

An apology never made finally comes out.

-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

(The man gently pats his back)

-I’m sorry. 

(The man shushes him like a child.)

-I’m so sorry. 

(The man puts him in bed)

-I am so sorry.

(The man joins him in bed.)

_ -It’s not okay, but it’s going to be okay. _

He looks over the man’s shoulders.

He checks the time on the clock.

He stretches his arm and flips the clock down.

He covers his face on the man’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a writer addicted to melancholia. :')  
> feedback is greatly appreciated; also posted on [tumblr](http://ambiguouslines.tumblr.com/tagged/o-clock)


End file.
